The Lamentable Tragedy of Arthur and Kaitlyn
by mrsdalliswinston
Summary: Romeo and Juliet as told by your favorite Hetalia characters! Grab a tissue box, and get ready for the Lamentable Tragedy of Arthur and Kaitlyn- Arthur/OC Romeo and Juliet AU! T for slight language and character death
1. Act 1 Scene 1

**Act 1, Scene 1)**

**A/N: Hey! So I got this idea to basically type out Romeo and Juliet but to use the Hetalia characters and to make Juliet an OC. I kept all the diologue to the original script, but omitted some stuff so that the story moves faster, and to make it easier to understand. If there's anything you still don't understand after the story, just send me a PM and I'll help try to clear up any confusion ^^**

**I put some little explanations to things that I thought you guys might find confusing at the bottom (everything with a *) and some translations of words (example, morrow ((morning))) next to the words themselves.**

**And also, I apologize for any OOCness of the characters, but I wanted them to fit the characters that they were standing in for. And any names you don't recognize, just assume that they're not important and an OC I made up for little roles that only show up once.**

**Enjoy! And please review, criticism is always welcome.**

**I don't own Hetalia or Romeo and Juliet  
**

* * *

_Two households, both alike in dignity_

_(In fair Verona, where we lay our scene),_

_From ancient grudge break to new mutiny,_

_Where civil blood makes civil hands unclean._

_From forth the fatal loins of these two foes_

_A pair of star-crossed lovers take their life;_

_Whose misadventures piteous overthrows_

_Doth with their death bury their parents' strife._

_The fearful passage of their death-marked love_

_And the continuence of their parents' rage,_

_Which, but their children's end, naught could remove,_

_Is now the two hours' traffic of our stage;_

_The which, if you with patient ears attend,_

_What here shall miss, our toil shall strive to mend._

Along the streets of fair Verona, two sevingmen named Gilbert and Francis from the house of Quinn were swaggering through the market, dressed in leggings and tunics both the bright reds and yellows associated with the powerful Quinn household, carrying swords and bucklers on their hips, both of which bore the Quinn family crest.

The pair weren't the most educated (or clean, for that matter) men in Verona, and to pass the time, they conversed of what men of lower intelligence tend to: women, fighting, and their own strength.

Gilbert brushed some of his greasy white hair out of his face as he continued to boast of his fighting prowess.

"I strike quickly, being moved!" He cried out, to a snickering Francis. The tanner man with a sharp tongue replied,

"But though art not quickly moved to strike." To which Gilbert pouted slightly. After recollecting himself, he continued on,

"A dog of the house of Kirkland moves me." Francis quickly shot down that thought, reminding Gilbert that one has to be able to fight without running to be proficient in the art. Gilbert was becoming more and more insistent upon his skills, beginning to bring in the women serving the house of Kirkland in the most vulgar of ways, when Francis quickly placed his hand across Gilbert, effectively both stopping the insistent chatter spewing from his mouth and his movement foreword.

"Draw thy tool, here comes of the house of Kirkland." He said.

From across the market they could see two servingmen from the Kirkland households, Abraham and John, dressed in dark forest green, chattering with each other and making their way toward the idiotic duo that just so happened to be observing them.

Gilbert turned to Francis and said quite cowardly,

"My naked weapon is out. Quarrel, I will back thee." Francis rolled his light blue eyes at Gilbert and said,

"How? Turn thy back and run?" Gilbert threw Francis a look and shook his head.

"Let us take the law of our sides; let them begin." He said, nodding along with his words. Both Gilbert and Francis (though he wouldn't admit it) were itching for a fight with the Kirklands, a chance to show them that the Quinn household can hold their own.

Francis at first throws out the idea to just frown at them, and to let them take that as they will. Gilbert, once again, threw Francis a look.

"Nay, as they dare. I will bite my thumb at them*, which is a disgrace to them if they bare it." Gilbert said, holding his thumb out as if he was illustrating his point. Francis' gold-colored eyebrows shot up on his head. He nodded, though, deciding to see how this panned out.

As Abraham and John approached, Gilbert quickly bit his thumb, a cocky smirk on his face.

Abraham and John stopped dead in their tracks, their page hats slipping slightly on their heads. Abraham's slightly more distinguished looking face became slightly offended looking. He sniffed a bit and said to the Quinn pair,

"Do you bite your thumb at us, sir?"

Gilbert's cocky grin became wider. He answered cheekily,

"I do bite my thumb, sir." Abraham was becoming annoyed with the childish antics of the Quinn household, and the chided look on his face was beginning to show.

Gilbert turned to Francis and quietly asked,

"Is the law of our side if I say 'aye' **((Yes))**?" Francis shook his head, quietly murmuring,

"No." Gilbert turned back to Abraham and John, and offered another cheeky grin.

"No, sir, I do not bite my thumb at you sir, but I bite my thumb, sir."

Francis decided it was his turn to throw in his two cents.

"Do you quarrel sir?" He asked Abraham, almost wanting him to say 'aye' so that the two could engage in a good fight. Abraham said,

"Quarrel, sir? No, sir." With a small smirk on his face, knowing his answer would get to Francis. As you can see, the house of Quinn wasn't known for their great anger management. But then again, neither was the house of Kirkland.

A few more petty words of argument were exchanged. Eventually, the topic of whose master was better came up, something the quarreling houses were very touchy on. Francis noticed a cousin of the Kirklands come strolling down the small road where the exchange was taking place. He rolled his eyes as brown haired man with a cheery look and dignified stance came strolling down the enclosed area where the exchange was taking place. The man's name was Owen*, and he was indeed a kinsmen of the Kirkland house. He was very close with Lord and Lady Kirkland's only son, Arthur.

Owen's face grew more serious as he watched the array of colorfully dressed men* draw their swords and begin to engage in a duel. He ran towards them, hand on his on sword just in case.

"Part, fools! You know not what you do!" He cried, drawing his own sword, attempting to stop the fight. From the other side, ran in a kinsman of the Quinns, Lovino. Lovino had a short temper and an affinity for fighting.

Lovino turned to Owen, face glowing with malice. He quickly drew his sword, silently beckoning Owen to fight.

"I do but keep the peace." Owen pleaded, making a motion for Lovino to put his sword away.

Lovino spit on the ground at Owen's feet.

"What, drawn and talk of peace?" He snorted, "I hate the word as I hate hell, all Kirklands and thee! Have at thee, coward!" He said, jabbing at Owen, who swiftly blocked the blow. Owen and Lovino continued fighting, Lovino for sport and Owen to protect himself. The fight was beginning to attract citizens, who were cheering for the demise of all parties.

Hearing the commotion in the town square, Lady and Lord Quinn arrived. The two distinguished looking figures were dressed, once again, in the bright colors associated with the house. Lord Quinn's face lit up as he saw the fight, turning to his wife and calling for his long sword. Lady Quinn rolled her eyes and said to him,

"A crutch! A crutch! Why call you for a sword?"

At the same time, Lord and Lady Kirkland arrived, Lord Kirkland a robust man dressed very lavishly, and Lady Kirkland just as jolly. The dueling heads of houses both noticed the other, and both turned to their wives, demanding their swords.

"Thou villain Quinn!-Hold me not; let me go!" Lord Kirkland cried at his wife, who refused to let him fight.

"Thou shalt not stir one foot to seek a foe." She said, sniffing and pointing her round little nose into the air.

The fight had escalated, woops and the clashing of swords and the hollering of citizens ringing throughout Verona. It had turned out into an all-out civil brawl, the whole of Verona becoming involved.

Through the flurry of noise and shouts, trumpets and the clomping of horses could be heard. Every person's head whipped around, to see a very noble looking figure on a white horse, followed by throngs of men on white steeds, also. It was the prince of Verona, Prince Ludwig, and he didn't look very happy with the fighting at all.

"Rebellious subjects! Enemies to peace!" He cried over the noise, effectively stopping the brawl in its tracks. Men from various houses and nobilities laid out, bleeding, others swords still were connected with the last blow they had administered when the Prince interrupted. The crowed cowered, even the loud Kirkland and proud Quinns hushing.

"Three civil brawls, bred of an airy word by thee-" he pointed at the Quinns and then to the Kirklands, "Old Quinns and old Kirklands. You've thrice disturbed the quiet of our streets, and made Verona's ancient citizens cankered with peace, to part your hate. If ever you disturb our streets again, your lives shall pay the forfeit of the peace. For this time, all the rest depart away." He said, and then turned his pure white horse around and quickly rode it back to the castle. The feuding families had been upsetting the peace more often lately, and the prince was becoming very fed up by it, not wanting his beautiful Italian streets of Verona to become ones filled with violence and mindless, petty quarrels.

As the crowds dispersed and disposed of the bodies strewn about, Lord and Lady Kirkland remained, craning their necks for a glimpse of their son, Arthur. Owen walked up to his kinsmen, gracing them with a bow.

"O, where is Arthur? Saw you him today? Right glad I am he was not at this fray*." Lady Kirkland said, nodding and adjusting her large headpiece. Owen offered her a gentle smile as he said,

"Madam, an hour before the sun peered forth the golden windows of the east, a troubled mind drove me to walk abroad, where under the grove of the sycamore* so early walking did I see your son."

Lord Kirkland nodded quickly, a look of understanding on his face.

"Many a morning hath he there been seen, with tears augmenting the fresh morning's dew, and private in his chamber pens himself, shuts up his windows, locks fair daylight out, and makes himself an artificial night." He said with concern. Owen's dark eyebrows furrowed.

"My noble uncle, do you know the cause?" He asked.

"I neither know it nor can learn of him." Lord Kirkland said.

"Have you importuned **((asked)) **him by any means?" Owen asked, his worry for Arthur growing slightly.

"Both by myself and many other friends." Lord Kirkland replied solemnly, shaking his head. He really was worried for his son, Arthur. He had been acting strange, as of late, shutting himself in his room and refusing to come out, acting quite heartbroken, but refusing to tell anyone about it.

Out of the corner of Owen's eye, he saw a young man with blond hair and big green eyes wearing the Kirkland's signature green come strolling up the street.

"See where he comes. So please you, step aside. I'll know his grievances or be much denied." He said to Lord and Lady Kirkland, ushering them further up the street. As Arthur approached Owen, Owen said chirpily,

"Good morrow **((Morning)),** cousin!" Arthur offered him a solemn look, setting himself down on the stoop of a house.

"Is the day so young?" He asked. Owen sighed at his cousin's dramatics.

"But new struck nine." He answered, pointing to the sky a little, as the sun was still in the east.

"Ay me, sad hours seem long. Was that my father that went hence so fast?" Arthur asked, craning his neck a little to see if his father was still there.

"It was. What sadness lengthens Arthur's hours?" Asked Owen, trying to keep the subject on Arthur's recent personality swap, from his normal cheery and jovial self to this solemn, serious person.

"Not having that which, having, makes them short." He said, nodding his head with his words. The metaphorical light bulb went off in Owen's head.

"In love?" He asked.

"Out-" Arthur replied.

"Of love?" Owen asked, confused.

"Out of her favor where I am in love." Arthur said, once again sighing. Owen understood. Arthur Kirkland was known to not only be handsome and quite romantic, but very dramatic also. Owen offered some means of comfort by saying,

"Alas that love, so gentle in his view, should be so tyrannous and rough in proof!"

Arthur threw Owen a pitting look, and nodded his head.

"Farewell, my coz **((Cousin))**." Arthur said, standing and starting to turn.

"Soft, I will go along, and if you leave me so, you do wrong!" Owen said, standing quickly and brushing his shaggy brown hair out of his face. Arthur looked as if to be thinking it over, and then nodded quickly, waiting for Owen to catch up.

"Tell me in sadness*, who is it that you love?" He asked, following Arthur's quick pace. Arthur continued to walk, not even sparing a glance at his cousin.

"Why, shall I groan and tell thee?" He asked. Owen's face took on a look of confusion.

"Groan? Why no, but sadly tell me who." He answered.

"In sadness coz, I do love a woman." Arthur stated.* Owen puffed out his chest proudly.

"I aimed so near when I supposed you loved." Arthur nodded at his cousin's statement.

"In strong proof of chastity well-armed, from love's weak childish bow she lives uncharmed.*" Arthur said, Owen's eyes popping open momentarily in understanding. He chuckled a bit as he said,

"Then she hath sworn that she will still live chaste?"

"She hath." Arthur said, nodding. Owen shrugged, not seeing the problem.

"Be ruled by me, forget to think of her." He stated simply. Arthur turned to him and dramatically sighed.

"O, teach me how I should forget to think!" He cried out. Owen rolled his eyes at his cousin's antics.

"By giving liberty unto thine eyes. Examine other beauties." He said to Arthur, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Arthur stopped dead in his tracks and turned to his cousin.

"Show me a mistress that is passing fair; what doth her beauty serve but as a note where I may read who passed that passing fair? Farewell. Thou canst not teach me to forget." Arthur said, turning on his heels and swiftly walking away from Owen.

"I'll pay that doctrine or else die in debt." Owen called after him.

* * *

***To bite one's thumb at someone was a sign of defiance. Like England's little kid version of flipping someone off.**

***Owen is the personification of Wales**

***The reason the Kirklands and the Quinns (which, by the way, is an actual last name, not Northern Ireland or Ireland XD) wear bright colors is because back then, being able to afford clothing in bright colors, such as the Quinn's reds and yellows, and odd, such as the Kirkland's dark forest green, was a sign of wealth, because one could afford to buy dyes (and probably the clothing themselves because hey, when you're rich in 16****th**** century England who needs to work?) even though they were so pricy and hard to find. I figured that rich families would dress their servingmen in them when they send them out, as to display their wealth to everyone.**

***In most of this play, you'll be able to tell one's 'dignity' (in other words the rich, big wigs and from the poor peasants) by how they speak. It they rhyme, most of the time they're rich. Or wrapping up a scene. **

***Sycamore is a type of tree, it's saying he was chilling in a sycamore grove somewhere  
**

***When Owen says, "Tell me in sadness" he means seriously, not sadly. Arthur, being a smart ass answers him back like he asked him to "tell me sadly."**

***In the actual play, Romeo is 'in love' with a woman named Roasalin, but the book is called Romeo and Juliet. So, Arthur, at the beginning, is 'in love' with Michelle (Seyshell), but, it's called Arthur and Kaitlyn (spoiler alert XD) and so, just wait out his dramatic antics for a chapter more ^^**

***Michelle won't sleep with him and he's sad.**

**Thanks for reading! Sorry it was so long, but there's a lot to put in each scene~! **


	2. Act 1 Scene 2

**Act 1 Scene 2)**

**A/N: Here's scene two, remember to leave a review! ^^**

**I don't own Hetalia or Romeo and Juliet  
**

* * *

After returning to the Quinn manner, Lord Quinn sat down for a nice drink. Lord Quinn was an ostentatious man, enjoying the luxuries money granted him, and the Quinn manor reflected it. It was large, with many rooms and wings, all furnished lavishly. For example, the sitting room in which Lord Quinn sat in now was open with a high ceiling. A crystal chandelier hung from the ceiling, over a large chair in which Lord Quinn sat. There was a bearskin rug adorning the floor, and all the silken pillows were brightly colored.

A knock at the door alerted Lord Quinn to the presence of another man by the name of Alfred. After standing with a grunt, Lord Quinn adjusted his red robes and opened the door.

"Alfred m'boy!" Lord Quinn said happily clapping him on the back.

Alfred was a young man of noble dignity, a suitor of Lord Quinn's daughter. He had honey colored hair, with a single peace that no matter how much any servant of his tried just wouldn't sit flat. His eyes were large and cerulean.

Only when the two's conversation turned into one about the nuptials between Alfred and Kaitlyn and of the Kirklands did Lord Quinn's expression go from one of happiness to one of a more solemn tone.

"But Kirkland is bound as well as I, in penalty alike! And 'tis not hard, I think, for men so old as we to keep the peace." Lord Quinn said with a sigh.

"Of honorable reckoning are you both, and pity 'tis you lived at odds so long. But now lord, what say you to my suit?" Alfred asked, steering the conversation back to his nuptials with Kaitlyn. Lord Quinn once again sighed, scratching the back of his head.

"But saying o'er what I have said before. My child is yet a stranger in this world. She hath not seen the change of fourteen years.* Let two more summers wither in their pride ere we may think her ripe to be a bride." He said to Alfred, who shook his head and said,

"Younger than she are happy mothers made." He refused to give up.

"And too soon married are those so early made." Lord Quinn said, glancing up through the window at his wife, who happened to have been as young as Kaitlyn is now when they were wed. While he did love her and she did bear him his lovely daughter, she was immature, and sometimes crass.

"Earth hath swallowed all my hopes but she; she's the hopeful lady of my earth. But woo her, gentle Alfred, get her heart; my will to her consent is but a part. This night I hold an old accustomed feast, whereto I have invited many a guest such as I love; and you among the store, one more, most welcome, makes my number more. Come go with me*." Lord Quinn said, beckoning Alfred to follow him. He made his way to a servant's quarters, and gave his servant, Gilbert, a piece of parchment.

"Go, sirrah, trudge about through fair Verona, find those persons out whose names are written there, and to them say my house and welcome on their pleasure stay." He ordered Gilbert, then ushering Alfred back into the sitting room for a more in depth conversation.

* * *

Gilbert left the manner, strolling along the streets and twisting the parchment at all angles.

"Find out whose names are written here! It is written that the shoemaker should meddle with his yard and the tailor with his last, the fisher with his pencil and the painter with his nets.* But I am sent to find those persons whose names are here writ, and can never find what names the writing person hath here writ. I must to the learned. In good time!" He said, scratching his head and trying with all his might to read the paper, and, being quite illiterate, failing.

At the same time, Owen and Arthur came strolling up the street from the other direction, and, Gilbert not wearing his customary red and yellow outfit that he normally does for outings, bore no malice towards him. They actually felt a bit sorry for him, seeing him in distress and struggling to read, and decided to help.

"God gi' good e'en.* I pray, sir, can you read?" Gilbert asked Arthur, all but thrusting the paper at him.

"Ay, mine own fortune and in mine misery." Arthur replied, nodding his head sadly at Gilbert. Owen rolled his green eyes at Arthur's dramatic antics, while Gilbert just looked more confused and said,

"Perhaps you have learned it without book. But I pray, can you read anything that you see?"

Arthur shrugged modestly and said,

"Ay, if I know the letters and the language." To which Owen nodded in agreement.

Gilbert, being a little more than thick looked slightly disappointed, not quite getting Arthur's meaning said,

"You say honest. Rest you merry." And with that he turned on his heels to leave. Arthur placed a hand on his shoulder, gesturing for him to hand him the parchment.

"Stay fellow, I can read." Arthur stated bluntly. Gilbert brightened up and handed him the paper.

_Signiore Williams and his wife and daughters,_

_The lady widow of Vitruvio,_

_Signiore Vargas and his lovely nieces, _

_Allistor and his brother Áedán*,_

_Mine Uncle Quinn, and his wife and daughters,_

_My fair niece Michelle and Livia**,_

_Signiore Velentino** and his cousin Lovino,_

_Antonio and the lively Helena**_

Arthur read the lofty list of guests, the idea of Michelle being there making his heart beat ragged in his chest. He rolled up the list of guests, handed it back to Gilbert and with interest peaking his voice asked,

"A fair assembly. Whither should they come?" Gilbert blinked a little before answering,

"Up." Arthur could feel his patience being tried slightly,

"Wither? To supper?" Arthur asked slowly.

"To our house." Gilbert answered, cocking his head as if he really didn't understand the question. Arthur sighed.

"Whose house?" He asked, prying Gilbert for information to the best of his ability.

"My masters." Gilbert stated proudly. Arthur face palmed, and exasperated he said,

"Indeed I should have asked thee before." Gilbert puffed out his chest, and in an act of great charity (or at least in his mind) said,

"Now I'll tell you without asking. My master is the great rich Quinn, and, if you not be of the house of Kirkland, I pray* come and crush a cup of wine. Rest you merry." And with that, Gilbert sauntered off, leaving an amused Owen and a slightly defeated looking Arthur.

Arthur had wanted to attend that party, to see his fair Michelle. Owen, knowing Arthur far too well, clapped him on the back.

"At this same ancient feast of Quinn's sups **((In other words; will be attending)) **the fair Michelle whom thou so loves, with all the admirèd beauties of Verona. Go thither **((there))**, and with unattainted eye compare her face with some that I show, and I will make thee swan a crow." Owen said, nodding proudly and puffing out his chest.

Michelle's long, dark brown glossy hair and warm eyes flashed through Arthur's mind. He let his mind wander to an image of his pale hand holding her tan one and dancing all night at the Quinn's party, where she would proclaim her love for him and-Arthur shook the image from his mind*.

"When the devote religion of mine eye maintains such falsehood, then turns tears to fire; and these who, often drowned, could never die. One fairer than my love? The all-seeing sun ne'er saw her match since first the world begun." Arthur said to Owen seriously. And, at the moment, he meant it.

Owen, on the other hand, was quite skeptical. Arthur was known to be a little…in love with love.

"Tut, you saw her fair, none else being by, herself poised with herself in either eye; but in that crystal scales let there be weighed your lady's love against some other maid that I will show you shining at this feast, and she shall scant show well than now seems best.*" He said, raising a large eyebrow custom of the Kirklands. Arthur sighed once again, running a hand through his golden hair.

"I'll go along, no such sight to be shown, but to rejoice in splendor of mine own." He said, and the Kirkland duo headed back to the manner, to get themselves ready for the upcoming party.

* * *

***Now, before you go 'ewwww she's only fourteen and he's like…old!' I just want to remind you that this story takes place in sixteenth century England where baths were considered unhealthy, and were only taken once a year. (Twice if you're rich) There are so many things that could happen to shorten the already short life expectancy (the average being late 30s), and women would marry early so that they could bear children and keep the family name going, before dying due to those poison tomatoes (but that's a story for another day)**

***This is just Lord Quinn's backwards way of saying 'follow me' or 'come'**

***So, our friend Gilbert is trying to figure out what the paper says, and being illiterate is failing. At this point, he's basically being an idiot and saying"Fishermen get to work with pencils and artists get to use nets!" In other words, he has no clue what the hell he's talking about**

***I know I know, Gilbert is Prussia! Use your imagination people. Oh, and he's trying to say good evening. **

***** **Áedán is my headcannon for Northern Ireland's name**

****All OCs that isn't very important. I just put them there to fill spaces.**

***You're going to be seeing 'I pray' a lot. It doesn't mean pray like, getting on your hands and knees to pray, they're saying 'I wish' or 'I beg of you'**

***Like I said last chapter, there's another girl (or so it seems) in Arthur/Romeo's life at the beginning of the play. Don't worry, he gets over her. And fast. So if you're not into the whole SeyEng pairing (quite like me), don't you worry ducky, because eventually his tune changes and this can aaallll just be water under the bridge**

***Wales is basically using 16****th**** century English to say, "Dude! If you come to this party we'll totally find you a waaaay hotter chick."**


	3. Act 1 Scene 3

**Act 1 Scene 3)**

**A/N: Hey there duckys! Here's act one scene three.**

**I made Hungry the nurse, because I can just see her being that type of person. Most of the time, she's going to be rambling about nothing, so it's okay of you don't quite follow. And anytime she's talking about maidenheads or Kaitlyn's back, just assume she's talking about…doing it. XD Vulgar indeed**

**And without further ado, act one scene three.**

**I don't own Hetalia or Romeo and Juliet**

* * *

Elizaveta and Lady Quinn didn't exactly see eye to eye. One might have been the enormous height difference between the petite Lady and the tall and lanky nurse. Another reason might have been the fact that Elizaveta tended to speak without filter.

But one thing they could agree on was that they loved Kaitlyn Quinn very much.

On the afternoon leading up to the night of the party, nurse Elizaveta was helping Lady Quinn get ready.

"Nurse, where's my daughter? Call her forth to me." Lady Quinn ordered. Elizaveta threw Lady Quinn an unfazed smile and put a pin in the part of Lady's hair that she was working on.

"Now, by my maidenhead at twelve years old, I bade her come. –What lamb! What, ladybird! God forbid. Where's this girl? What, Kaitlyn!"

The door leading into Lady Quinn's chambers opened, and in walked Kaitlyn, fair as ever. Her auburn hair was twisted on top of her head under a small red and gold headpiece. Her clear blue eyes sparkled, and her pale face was without a blemish, containing only a few freckles here and there from spending her days in the garden. She had on a velveteen dress, a dark red color with gold piping to match. She too had been in the process of getting ready when nurse Elizaveta beckoned to her.

Her pink lips twisted up into a gentle smile.

"Madame, I am here. What is your will?" She asked, looking from her mother to her nurse.

"This is the matter-nurse, give leave a while." Lady Quinn said, shooting Elizaveta a look. She quickly gathered the skirts to her green cotton dress and scurried out into the hallway.

Kaitlyn sat on her mother's bed, waiting. Lady Quinn was unsure what to say, or how to approach her topic, never really raising Kaitlyn or attempting to get to know her.*

She sat there for another few minute, looking at Kaitlyn and blinking awkwardly, when she finally gave up and said quietly,

"We must talk in secret. –Nurse, come back again." Elizaveta came barreling in through the door, bowing to Lady Quinn a little. She was, presumably waiting by the door, which is why Lady Quinn spoke so quiet.

"I have remembered me, thou's hear our council." Lady Quinn turned to Elizaveta. "Thou knowest my daughter's of a pretty age." She stated. Elizaveta nodded widely and said,

"Faith, I can tell her age unto an hour!" Chuckling slightly she nodded, clapping petit Kaitlyn on the back and sending her sprawling onto the bed.

Lady Quinn sniffed and said,

"She's not fourteen-" To which she immediately regretted her words. Nurse Elizaveta went into a long speech about nothing to the pair, managing to prattle on about nothing, turn Kaitlyn's face a bright red, and cause Lady Quinn a headache.

"-And, pretty fool, it stinted and said, 'ay'." She said, happily. Lady Quinn was rubbing her temples.

"Enough of this. I pray thee, hold thy peace!" She said sharply. Elizaveta paused for a moment, before saying,

"Yes, madam. Yet, I cannot choose but laugh to think it should leave crying and say 'ay.' And yet, I warrant, thou will fall backward when thou comest to age, wilt thou not, Kait? It stinted and said 'ay,'*" She continued, Kaitlyn laughing cheerily.

"And stint thou, too. I pray the nurse, say I." She said, giggling. Elizaveta plopped herself down next to Kaitlyn, gently tapping her nose with a finger.

"Peace. I have done. God mark thee to his grace, thou was the prettiest babe that e'er I nursed. And I might live to see thee married once, I have my wish." Elizaveta said, hugging Kaitlyn's side. Lady Quinn perked up at this comment and stood quickly.

"Marry! That 'marry' is the very theme I came to talk of. –Tell me daughter Kaitlyn, how stands your disposition to be married?" She asked excitedly, grasping Kaitlyn's hands and pulling her up.

Kaitlyn looked slightly flustered, and opening and shutting her mouth widely for a second before finally settling with,

"It is an honor I dream not of." Elizaveta laughed as Lady Quinn's grin fell on her face slightly. She sat down on the other side of Kaitlyn and took her hands.

"Well, think of marriage now. Younger than you here in Verona, ladies of esteem, are made already mothers. By my count, I was your mother much upon these years that you are now a maid. Thus, then, in brief: the valiant Alfred seeks you for his love." She said, looking into Kaitlyn's eyes to gauge her reaction. Elizaveta's brown eyes lit up.

"A man, young lady-lady such a man as all the world-why, he's a man of wax!*" She chirped joyfully. Lady Quinn shot her a look.

"Speak briefly. Can you like of Alfred's love?" Lady Quinn asked Kaitlyn, waiting expectantly as Kaitlyn mulled all this over in her head."

"I'll look to like, if looking liking move. But no more deep will I endart mine eye than your consent gives strength to make it fly.*" She answered, nodding. Just as Lady Quinn opened her mouth to say something, the door opened to reveal the blond serving man by the name of Francis standing in the doorway, wearing a nicer outfit of his.

"Madam, the guests are come, supper served up." He said, a slight French accent playing through his words.

Lady Quinn was disappointed that her conversation was coming to an end, but, knowing that it wasn't truly Francis' fault, she threw him a smile and said,

"We follow thee." Francis bowed and left the three girls.

"Kaitlyn, the county* stays-" Began Lady Quinn.

"Go girl, seek, happy nights to happy days." Elizaveta finished, beaming at Kaitlyn.

* * *

***Back in the olden days, wealthy mothers use to have these servants called 'wet nurses', which were women who recently had babies who nursed the wealthy mother's baby along with her own. The wet nurses more often than not would end up raising the child from infant to teenager, with the mother having little to do with it. Kaitlyn's mother must have found it awkward to talk with Kaitlyn, not knowing a single thing about her.**

***This is a spot where I had to omit quite a bit so that it could move along faster and you, the reader, wouldn't get bored. The nurse has just told a particularly vulgar story about Kaitlyn/Juliet when she was learning to walk, how she knew the day would come where instead of falling upon her knees she'd be falling upon her back (i.e. into a bed...with a male...you get it)  
**

***Basically she's calling Alfred a 'man made from wax,' think like a Ken doll. Perfect, molded...yadayadayada  
**

***Basically Kaitlyn/Juliet's sneaky way of saying 'maybe'  
**

***Alfred had the title of Count Alfred (think Count Dracula), and another word for this title is County, like County Alfred. Her mother is saying the the idea of marrying Alfred will remain a topic, but for now they are going to party  
**


	4. Act 1 Scenes 4 and 5

**Act 1 Scene 4/5)**

**A/N: Scene four really wouldn't have moved the story anywhere, so I decided to basically combine scenes four and five. Also, there's a lot less dialogue in this chapter, and a lot more omitting and embellishing.**

**And yes, the romance does move very quickly in this story, but that's how Shakespeare wrote it!**

**As always I don't own Hetalia or Romeo and Juliet**

**Enjoy, and remember to review! ^^**

* * *

Night had fallen over fair Verona, and so it was time for the feast* at Quinn manor. Arthur, Owen and their friend Allistor, along with five or six of their men donning masks, torchbearers and a boy with a drum made their way to the Quinn's residence, whooping and calling, joking and laughing all the way. Arthur, Owen and Allistor had on blue tunics with darker blue tights on the bottom, and on their face they had on a silver mask molded to look like a lion.

Arthur was still skeptical about crashing the feast. Being a more mature, level headed man (or at least in his own eyes he was), he couldn't help but feel a tad guilty about being there.

His friend and cousin, along with the assorted servants chanted and sang and made even more noise as they entered the large mansion that was the Quinn's. The hall was grand, decorated with glinting gold, and filled to the hilts with ripe fruit, wine and beautifully dressed men and women.

Arthur turned intent on leaving when both Owen and Allistor blocked him with his body. They shook their heads, a mischievous glint apparent in both their eyes, even through the masks, and they pointed at Lord Quinn, who had stood, ready to make a speech.

Lord Quinn enjoyed parties more than anything else, and so it was with a certain jolliness and joy that he said his speech.

"Welcome, ladies and gentlemen-" He began his long winded speech, and as he spoke he would throw a flirtatious wink at the women, as would Francis, who was sitting with Gilbert in a corner, waiting to be needed by a master or a beautiful woman.

"You are welcome, gentlemen! –Come, musicians, play!" He commanded, and with that last booming tremor of his voice, the music began. A band sat on a small make-shift stage, swiftly plucking at their instruments and filling the hall with joyous music.

* * *

Kaitlyn had spent the night flitting about, dancing with numerous men and women alike and showing off her new dress tailored specifically for her.

Just as she was bowing to dance with County Alfred, something caught her eye. Standing on the wings, observing, was a boy. He had golden hair, the color that Kaitlyn had always wished hers could have been, and his eyes were the most brilliant green she had ever seen. She couldn't see the rest of his face, because of the silver mask that covered it, but she couldn't stop staring. Alfred danced her around to the slow, waltz-like song, and Kaitlyn made sure to keep her eyes trained on the mysterious man over his shoulder.

* * *

Arthur could honestly say that he was having an okay time. He enjoyed observing, especially when fair Michelle strolled by, though his mood considerably dampened when he saw a Duke steal a kiss. He pulled his mask off in anger, and threw it on the marble floors of the manner, at the feet of a maiden. He heard the fluttering of skirts as the maiden bent down to pick it up. She stood back up, and Arthur took a good look at her.

She had porcelain colored skin; a great contrast to his Michelle's tan-he couldn't finish his thought as his green eyes met her blue. All thoughts of Michelle left him mind, it was as if she never existed. As if no other girl ever had existed. They were the most brilliant and shockingly blue eyes he had ever seen, full of joy and happiness. Her rose-colored lips were turned up in a smile, brightening her face and accentuating the small dimples on her freckle-dusted cheeks. She brushed a stray auburn hair out of her face and held out the silver mask in her slender hands. Arthur slowly took it, his eyes slowly grazing over her bright red dress and petit frame. She exhaled and turned as a man beckoned to her, throwing him a forlorn glance over her shoulder and lifting her skirts, quickly returning to the other man.

Arthur felt his heart start back up in his chest, and he finally found his voice again.

"O, she doth teach the torches to burn bright! It seems she hang upon the cheek of night as a rich jewel in Ethiop's ear-beauty too rich for use, for Earth too dear. So shows a snowy dove trooping with crows as yonder lady o'er her fellow shows. The measure done, I'll watch her place of stand and, touching hers, make blessèd my rude hand. Did my heart love till now? Forswear it sight, for I ne'er saw true beauty till this night." He breathed out, watching her carefully. He placed his silver mask on a table forgotten as he made his way through the crowd, who was now gathering to hear Allistor sing.

* * *

Lovino's ears perked up as he heard a familiar voice musing.

"…For I ne'er saw true beauty till this night." The familiar voice finished, and Lovino felt his hand twitch toward his sword.

"This, by his voice, shall be a Kirkland.-Fetch me my rapier **((sword))**, boy." Lovino said sharply, turning to his page, who looked a little more than frightened as he left.

"What, dares the slave come hither covered with an antique face* to fleer and scorn at our solemnity? Now, by the stock and honor of my kin, to strike him dead I hold it not a sin." Lovino continued angrily, standing, his southern-Italian accent flaring with the oath. He heard footsteps and turned to see a velveteen-clad Lord Quinn standing behind him.

"Why, how now, kinsmen?*Wherefore storm you so?" Asked Lord Quinn, placing a hand on the tanned man's shoulder and raising an eyebrow at the anger in the Italian's chocolate eyes.

"Uncle, this is a Kirkland, our foe, a villain that hither come in spite to scorn at our solemnity this night." Lovino rushed out angrily. Lord Quinn sought out the person that he was talking about, and when he spotted a young man that looked quite Kirkland-ish moving his way through the crowd with a very determined face, he asked,

"Young Arthur is it?" Lovino glowered at Arthur, adjusting the large hat on his dark-brown hair, remembering to avoid the odd curl jutting out from his bangs.

"'Tis he, that villain Arthur," Lovino said, voice filled with malice. Lord Quinn gave Lovino a pitying look and gently squeezed his shoulder.

"Let him alone. He bears him like a portly gentleman, and, to say truth, Verona brags of him to be a virtuous and well-governed youth. Be patient, take no note of him. It is my will, if thou respect, show a fair presence and put off these frown, an ill-beseeming semblance for a feast." Lord Quinn said soothingly. Lovino puffed out his reddening cheeks.

"It fits when such a villain is a guest. I'll not endure him." He stated, beginning to head off toward Arthur. Lord Quinn's grip on Lovino's shoulder tightened considerably.

"He shall be endured. I say he shall." He said firmly, tilting his head and giving Lovino a menacing look. Lovino made a face and said,

"Patience perforce with willful choler meeting makes my flesh tremble in their different greeting. I will withdraw, but this intrusion shall, now seeming sweet, convert to bitt'rest gall." Lovino stomped off.

Lord Quinn shook his head and sat, wanting to watch the spectacle below.

* * *

Allistor was still singing a popular tune about heartbreak, almost all of the partygoers standing in a crowd around him. His voice was gravely and melodious as he spun the words into a tune. Arthur quickly pushed his way through the crowd, finally spotting the beautiful girl who had handed him his mask. She was standing there with a dreamy look on her face, listening intently to Allistor.

Arthur spared a moment to admire her beauty once again, and then quickened his pace through the crowd. After reaching where she was standing, he grabbed her waist, pulling her behind a pillar, into a more secluded area of the hall.

For a moment she looked as if she was going to scream, and her mouth gapped open, but when she saw the loving look in Arthur's eyes, her pink lips shut and she began smiling again.

Arthur grabbed her hand, brushing his lips against it.

"If I profane with my unworthiest hand this holy shrine, the gentle sin is this: my lips, two blushing pilgrims, ready stand too smooth that rough touch with a tender kiss." He mused quietly, admiring the pretty blush that spread across her cheeks and slowly releasing her hand and straitening up. She looked at her feet bashfully, and looking up at him from beneath her long eyelashes she answered,

"Good pilgrim, you do wrong your hand too much, which mannerly devotion shows in this; for saints have hands that pilgrims' hands do touch, and palm to palm is holy palmers' kiss.*" She answered, pressing the palm of his hand flush against hers.

"Have not saints lips, and holy palmers too?" He asked, a small smile tugging at his lips. The girl seemed to mull that over, a grin spreading across her face.

"Ay, pilgrim, lips that they must use in prayer." She said, a hint of playfulness playing through her words. Arthur could feel his heart pounding tremors in his chest.

"O then, dear saint, let lips do what hands do. They pray: grant thou, lest faith turn to despair." He said, leaning towards her a bit.

She got on her tip-toes, her breath softly beating against his lips.

"Saints do not move, though grant for prayers' sake." She said softly. Arthur could barely think, with her in such close proximity.

"Then move not while my prayer's affect I take." He said thickly, closing the distance between her warm lips and his. He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her as close as possible, and holding her lips to his. His vision began turning a white color, and he wanted nothing more than to hold in this kiss forever.

* * *

She didn't even know his name. Kaitlyn didn't even know his name, but she knew she loved him. As his soft lips moved with hers, she nearly lost herself in the tender kiss they were engaging in now.

When she absolutely could not go without air anymore, she gently pulled away, relishing the tender look in his emerald-colored eyes, and the warm, pleasant feeling in her chest and stomach. After a moment, he broke the silence.

"Thus from my lips, by thine, my sin is purged." The blond said, a smile tugging at the corners of his beautiful lips.

For a minute, Kaitlyn could do nothing at stare at him. At his shaggy blond hair that fell onto his pale face, not a freckle nor mole nor any other imperfection gracing his elegant looking face. At his bright green eyes the seemed to pool with affection for her, and Kaitlyn knew hers were doing the same. At his lips that hers had just been touching all but a moment ago. Her eyes never left his face as she said,

"Then have my lips the sin that they have took."

The man let out a chuckle, tilting her face up to his again.

"Sin from my lips? O trespass sweetly urged! Give me my sin again." And with that, the man pulled Kaitlyn back for another kiss, this one far more heated than the first.

* * *

Just as Arthur swept his tongue over the petite brunette's lips, a woman with long brown hair came running over to them, whispering 'Kaitlyn!' urgently.

Kaitlyn, as Arthur now knew to call her, sighed, and pulled away, gently pressing one more kiss to his lips.

"You kiss by th' book," She said softly, smiling and stroking his cheek.

The woman with the long brown hair was smiling slightly as she said,

"Kaitlyn, your mother craves a word with you." Kaitlyn curtsied to Arthur and turned, once again glancing at him over her shoulder and heading to what looked like the lady of the house. Arthur pales and turned to the nurse quickly.

"What is her mother?" he asked urgently. Elizaveta smiled coyly and answered,

"Marry, bachelor, her mother is the lady of the house. I tell you, he that can lay hold of her shall have the chinks. Elizaveta then seemed to be interested in some wine a few tables over and moved away from fair Arthur, who at the moment, was beside himself once again.

"Is she a Quinn? O dear account! My life is my foe's debt." He cried, watching Kaitlyn conversing with her mother.

Arthur stepped out into the hall, where Owen and Allistor came running up to him, each grabbing an arm belonging to Arthur and dragging him out into the middle of the floor.

"Away, begone. The sport is at the best." Owen said urgently, grinning.

Arthur allowed a small smile to grace his face.

"Ay, so I fear. The more is my unrest." He said, and the trio began slowly moving out of the manor, following the crowd that was also marching out.

* * *

Kaitlyn tugged on Eliaveta's skirts, and nervously she asked,

"Come hither, nurse. What* is yond gentleman?" She said, slyly pointing to a random guest, as to make her question's seem out of curiosity and not desperation. Nurse Elizaveta smiled a slightly intoxicated smile and said,

"The son and heir of old Tibero." Juliet nodded and then pointed to a large man exiting.

"And him? What is he?" She asked, pointing. Nurse laughed a little and answered,

"Marry, that, I think, be young Ivan." She answered. Kaitlyn felt her breath hitch as she pointed towards the man whom she had kissed that evening.

"W-what's he that follows here, that would not dance? She asked, her heart skipping a beat. Nurse shook her head and said thoughtfully,

"I know not." Kaitlyn made a face and gently pushed Elizaveta.

"Go ask his name!" She said.

As Elizaveta went to go find out his name, Kaitlyn mused,

"If he be marrièd, my grave is likely to be my wedding bed."

Elizaveta returned, raising an amused eyebrow she said,

"His name is Arthur, and a Kirkland, the only son of your great enemy." Kaitlyn felt her heart constricting and her mouth gaped.

"My only love sprung from my only hate! Too early seen unknown, and known too late! Prodigious birth of love it is to me that I must love a loathèd enemy." She said sadly. From within the manner, Kaitlyn heard her name called. Elizaveta, noticing the shattered look on Kaitlyn's face, placed a sad hand on her back, and led her in.

"Come, let's away. The strangers are all gone."

* * *

***By 'feast', Shakespeare meant more of a ball, just less formal.**

***Romano is basically bitching Arthur out for showing up **

***'What' and 'How now' are both expressions that mean 'What's going on?'**

***Arthur and Kaitlyn are punning, comparing their hands and lips to a Palmer, who is a man of the church, calling Arthur a pilgrim (a man searching religious freedom) and Kaitlyn a Saint (…Self-explanatory?). Arthur's lips had 'sin', and gave it to Kaitlyn when he kissed her (metaphorically of course), seeing as she was the 'saint.' Confusing, I know. But hey, that was 16****th**** century English humor for you. Oh Arthur, you slay me hurr hurr hurr**

***When someone in this story asks 'what is s/he?', they're asking the last name or nobility of a person. Which, at the time, was faaar more important than your first name or personal accomplishments. Unless you were a royal, of course.**


End file.
